This story is officially longer than my other one. Which isn't really saying much, since that one is 3 chapters long and unfinished (sorry about that; I'll probably continue working on it at some point), but I'm still glad to finally surpass it in terms of length.
This chapter has more Loki/Tony with some stuff setting up for the future. I'm starting to worry that Tony is gonna turn evil.
-Chapter 9-
A week passed. Fury ranted about Aria, who had somehow managed to slip past the SHIELD agents, Clint seemed to be in a happier mood, and Tony slept lightly, expecting the shadows themselves to leap out at him.
He was almost getting relaxed in his own skin, focusing on work (actual CEO work more than superhero work) when Fury called.
"What's up?" He asked, not glancing up from the contract. He trusted Pepper, of course, but he always liked to skim through the papers he signed to get the gist. Ever since Obie, he liked to make sure he understood exactly what his company was up to.
"Barton spoke to me this morning."
"Oh, good, he got over his shyness." Tony replied distantly, still not paying too much attention. Sometimes having no sleep wasn't conducive to reading legalese. How can something be no less than three if it exceeds six?
"About living arrangements." His brain fired at that, sending him reminders that, yes, he'd invited Clint and the whole motley crew to his tower.
"When should I stop by for his stuff?" He asked, scrawling a messy signature at the bottom of the paper, his initial a few lines below, and then flipping to the next page.
"Stark, he needs my approval, and I'm not sure I want to give it." His eyes flickered up at that, annoyance tickling at his brain.
"I'll only spoil him a little."
"I need a reason."
"Isn't getting him and Romanoff near my technology enough of a reason?" Fury's eye narrowed.
"I want your reason."
"That's obvious, too."
"Has Loki contacted you?" And the real reason for the call bares its head.
"If he had, I think I might have dropped you a line."
"And Potts?" His engine stuck a little, sputtering.
"Uh, yeah. We talked a few days ago. Do you want her number or something? Because I am hereby giving you the 'if-you-hurt-her' speech. I can use a shotgun. Not well, yeah, but I could probably pay Clint to teach me, or even give Dummy some lessons." The robot in question gave a few excited beeps, and Tony figured that was probably a 'yes'.
"Your health?"
"Impeccable." Which was a bit of an exaggeration, because he was exhausted and hadn't eaten since Pepper had forced a hamburger (admittedly delicious) on him.
"The tower?"
"Enough rooms for them, Fury. And honestly, I don't think I care about your approval, anyway. I'm very rebellious and mysterious that way. Just send Clint over."
"He should be arriving in a few minutes." Tony blinked, then frowned down at himself. Oil-drenched jeans and a ratty t-shirt. He'd been working on the suit for the past twelve hours, and had only recently resigned himself to paperwork.
"I'm not dressed-!" He said, more to himself than Fury, as he leapt to his feet. He'd been hoping to wear a perfectly-tailored suit while he gave the tour. Not that he was vain or anything (impossible!), but he'd wanted the team's first impression of the tower to be positive.
"I'm sure Barton loves you for your personality," Fury assured him dryly. "I suggest you meet him downstairs, or he'll use the vents."
"Jarvis wouldn't let him," Tony answered confidently, but he swept towards the elevator anyway. "Tell me when you want to book a room, Fury." With that, he cut the connection, and waited as he was brought to the lobby.
Clint was almost unrecognizable. It wasn't often that Tony saw him in civilian clothes, and he'd chosen to wear the most casual outfit imaginable. It made Tony feel a little better about his own clothes. For all of two seconds.
"BP have another spill?" Tony rolled his eyes.
"What's on me isn't in a dolphin's lungs, so you're welcome." He gestured at the duffel bag. "Is the rest on its way?" Clint grinned.
"This is it. I'm ready to be wooed by your lavish lifestyle."
"Then let the wooing begin," Tony agreed amiably, leading him towards the elevator. "I've got your pass-codes and access cards upstairs, and then we'll head to your floor."
"My floor." Clint repeated with a devilish grin. "I so like the sound of that."
"So, have you passed the idea down the line to the rest of them?" Clint nodded.
"It took a little convincing for Rogers-" Tony snorted. "-but everyone is onboard. Thor seemed really eager, actually, considering how he's always wanting to stay in New Mexico."
"I've got an extra room on his for Jane, anyway. When will they be by?" Clint shrugged.
"I know Nat will be here tomorrow morning, but beyond that, no clue." Tony nodded, humming to himself in consideration.
As the elevator came to a stop on Tony's floor, Clint froze. Tony, who'd already begun making his way to the table, turned with a raised eyebrow.
"Um, is this another spy thing?" Clint was instantly at his side, his stance defensive. "Clint?"
"Something's up." Tony glanced around, but his living room simply blinked back.
"If you say so." Clint relaxed slightly, though his shoulders were still bared.
"It's gone."
"Okay." Clint turned, frowning.
"You didn't feel that?" Tony shrugged, walking towards his original destination to grab the cards. "It was cold." Ah.
"No, sorry," he said, picking up the packet. "There've been cold spots a lot lately. I blame Jarvis, but he maintains he's innocent."
"As I am, sir," The AI piped in, and Tony sent a smirk to the camera in the corner of the room.
"I'm a proponent of 'innocent until proven guilty', so I'll wait until the thermostat catches him messing with it. But your floor shouldn't have any, since it churns out a separate temperature. If they do show up, just call the landlord. I just haven't cared that much, so I haven't tried fixing it." Clint was still stiff as a nail, inspecting the room with calculating eyes. "Barton?" The archer blinked, glancing at him almost warily.
"Sorry. It just felt- um, never mind. So, pass-codes?"
"Ready to be calibrated to associate with your fingerprints and retinas. If you'd be so kind as to look at this wall for a second, we can set you up in ten minutes."
Barton, predictably, loved his floor. He gushed about it for a total of five minutes before demanding order-in pizza. They spent the evening in his section of the tower, and the agent took great delight in leaving his feet on the coffee table. It made Tony wonder how long he'd been staying in the stale stalls SHIELD laughingly called rooms, and he felt an unfamiliar surge of pride to be the cause of such happiness.
The following morning wasn't quite as rewarding (Natasha almost looked nauseas when she saw all the stuff he'd put in her homestead), but Clint had told him later he'd never seen her so blindsided (in a good way).
He didn't say a word when they were nowhere to be found later that day.
Rogers arrived the day after Natasha, duffel bag and suitcase looking awkwardly small in his goliath hands.
"You really don't have to do this," he said, though his eyes traced the ceiling of the lobby with something akin to awe.
"It's my pleasure," Tony only half-lied. "You ready to see the rest?" Rogers blinked down from the cavernous ceiling.
"Oh, definitely," he said with a broad grin. "Clint said he really liked the room you gave him. I hope this isn't too much stuff-?" Tony choked back a laugh, and just shook his head.
"I think it'll fit." As they entered the elevator, Rogers shifted.
"So, any word on Loki?"
"Not since his minion tried getting in my pants last week. Why? Fury find something?" Steve started, brows furrowed a little.
"Of course not. We would have let you know."
"Yeah," Tony agreed half-heartedly, well-aware that Fury tended to conceal things if he thought it would benefit him in the long-run. Recently, he'd decided that that wasn't the most terrible thing the one-eyed spy could do. That didn't change the fact that he resented not being in the loop. "Okay, we just have to grab some stuff and set you up, and then I'll show you to your room." Steve nodded cooperatively, following Tony into his living room.
"This is very nice," he said politely.
"Is it?" Tony asked with some surprise as he looked around for the papers. "I tried downplaying it with your area, but if you're more into this style, I can-"
"No, no, it's fine," Steve quickly assured him. "I'm sure whatever you've done is fine." Tony smirked at him a little. Rogers got on his nerves sometimes (read: most of the time) because he was just too damn nice. How could a person be so perf-
Okay, so he was still a little brainwashed. Howard had never been secretive about his admiration for Captain America. And seeing him in real life was just not fun. It was just impossible that anyone could be as pure as he seemed. But they were far enough into this Avengers thing that Tony could- with great confidence- admit that Rogers wasn't hiding a dark and insidious soul beneath a veneer of 1940s innocent charm. He was just a genuinely good guy.
And that annoyed Tony immensely.
And whether that were because he was just annoyed by holier-than-thou folk or because he recognized it as something he could never be, well. He tried to ignore that question.
"This is your ID card. You can use it to get into pretty much any level in the tower, although the only ones you'll really care about are the top ten. Those are the ones I've reserved for Avengers stuff. The rest is standard SI business." He held up the next card. "This is a credit card, which I'm sure someone has explained to you. I did happen to peek at your bank account and notice Fury isn't paying you enough, so you've got some extra spending money on here in case you want to, I dunno, paint the town red. Do you say that?" Steve's mouth was a little 'o' of surprise, and Tony shook off the question. "Whatever. Nowadays we call it a bender, and this'll get you the finest hookers and alcohol a celebrity in a downward spiral can afford. Next are passcodes. These might get a little confusing, and you can ask Jarvis for help. You remember Jarvis?"
"Hello, sir." Steve only jolted a little, and Tony tried to quell the disappointment.
"From your suit?" He asked, and Tony nodded.
"He's pretty much built into the tower, so you can ask him for help no matter where you are, even the maintenance closet in the basement. The passcodes are used along with the ID card for high-security areas like the Avengers levels and my lab. Similarly, I'm gonna need your fingerprints on my database and a quick retina scan. It'll take, like, five seconds, so just- here, take this tablet- put your thumb, yeah, right there, and your index- yep, you've got it. I see Fury put you through all this. Probably while you were still shaking off ice cubes."
Steve frowned at him disapprovingly as he went through the tasks, and Tony tried to ignore the glee he felt at the annoyance. He wasn't supposed to like being an asshole. He usually hated that he was. But around the Captain, it was all so easy and so gratifying.
"I have some paperwork you've gotta fill out- I hate it, too, don't worry- but you can handle that in your room. So, shall we?" Steve handed the tablet back with exaggerated care (suggesting he'd been less careful in the past), and Tony discarded it on the table as he swept back towards the elevator.
"Now, remember, you're floor 69." If Steve understood the crass reason he'd been given the floor, it didn't show. He just nodded and pressed the button. "Now, Jarvis, pretend Daddy isn't here." Steve looked momentarily confused, but Jarvis (bless him) understood instantly.
"Excuse me, sir, but the floor you have requested access to requires the presentation of a valid ID card." Steve glanced at Tony, who simply nodded impatiently at the small slit above a keyboard.
Steve ran the card with a furrowed brow that suggested diligent practice, and a small light glowed green.
"Please enter the 7-digit passcode." Steve glanced down at the paper Tony had handed him, and awkwardly tapped in the numbers. "Are you Steve Rogers?"
"Um, yes." Steve paused a millisecond. "Sir."
"Please direct your gaze toward the retinal scanner." It took a few looks to locate the thin black panel, and when Steve finally situated himself in front of it, he looked amusingly uneasy.
"Identity confirmed and recorded. Welcome to Floor 69, Captain Rogers."
"Captain?" Steve asked as the doors opened, glancing sideways at Tony. The engineer shrugged.
"He knows who you are, Cap. But from now on, you don't have to wait for him to tell you what to do. And the fingerprints are only needed if the retinal scanner is screwed up." Steve nodded.
"And he's everywhere."
"What can I say? He likes watching people while they sleep. So, do you like it?" Steve glanced around at the living room he'd entered. It was comfortably sparse, without all of the modern accessories that had made up Tony's floor. In fact, other than the huge windows and flat-screen TV, it almost seemed ageless.
"It's very nice," he said sincerely. "Where's my room?" Tony nodded and led the way. He watched Steve's face as he entered, and couldn't help the flurry of pride at the expression. He definitely got happiness from making that face screw up in annoyance, but making it beam felt just as nice. "Wow."
"Yeah?" Tony asked with a small grin. It was a little too real, but Steve wasn't looking at him anyway. He was running his hand along the smooth headboard of the bed, as his eyes traced over every aspect of the large bedroom. Tony had made sure that it didn't feel too overwhelmingly 2012-y, but had also taken care that it didn't exactly resemble the 40s.
Being reminded of what you don't have is never nice.
So he'd just designed a comfortable, quiet space that resembled a library more than a movie theater (i.e, Clint's room) with a TV tucked away behind a pair of mahogany cabinet doors. He doubted the soldier would ever use it, but it was there if he changed his mind.
"This is amazing, Tony." Steve managed, eying with visible surprise (and pleasure) the many art supplies Tony had left in the corner. He turned. "Are you on this floor, too?" Tony couldn't resist the smirk. "What?"
"Nah. This is all you, Cap." Surprise, again, mingled with confusion.
After ten minutes of 'yes, it really is all yours, no, I don't care if it's too big, no, I don't care that this is 'too much', no, I really have no interest in engaging in a man-hug of Thor proportions', Tony managed to escape.
At first, it had been nice. But seeing the unbridled gratitude had eventually left him feeling sick. Which was immensely stupid. Impossibly dumb.
But, fuck, he'd never proclaimed to be a person who reacted to things properly.
Or maybe it was just that Steve had said, eyes low and voice soft as if he were telling a personal secret, 'Howard raised a really good man.'
Because he was, in fact, not the drama queen the entire world thought he was, Tony had simply nodded with a grin he thought looked sincere, and said, 'As if I don't know. Wanna check out the blender?' After introducing the Captain to protein shakes, he'd managed to flee.
The quiet before the storm actually lasted an entire month. Tony thought it was going well. Everyone had showered him with gratitude for a few days, and then actually settled in. He figured it was like what having five siblings would have been like. Constant bickering, lots of teasing, and a battle or two for New York.
It was nice being able to relax somewhere as a group after an uncomfortable few hours of fighting slime monsters.
So, yes, for a while, it was great. Uncomfortable with Steve's geniality, Tony had made fun of him until the status quo returned to what it had been. They'd argued a few times, but it had usually ended with one of them (okay, always Tony) storming out (after giving a perfectly logical excuse for leaving).
Steve had tried to apologize after the first lover's quarrel, but Tony waved him off.
"Just because I'm the landlord doesn't mean you have to stay on my good side," he assured him. "I'm a dick, but I wouldn't kick you out just because I'm feeling asshole-ish. It'd be too much paperwork." Granted, he'd only said so because he was too tired to re-hash the issue, but it was true. He wasn't about to kick out Captain goddamn America.
"It's not about the floor," Steve had replied, brows crinkling again in that annoyed way that made Tony inwardly chuckle. He was just so sincerely affronted. "I was out of line." Tony laughed aloud at that.
"I'm really not gonna kick you out," he assured him breezily, walking past him before the super soldier could speak again. "Now go play with your hoop and stick. Barton's bow got sucked into that thing from Tuesday, and I've got to go build one impervious to acidic slime."
So, yes, there was tension. For the last week of the month, it boiled uncomfortably close to the surface, but was never out of control.
Until Tony decided to have a night in, free from socialites and superheroes. Predictably, Rogers, in a well-intentioned attempt at friendship, had entered.
And then the next hour was devoured by the most intense argument Tony had ever been in. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the dislike that had festered like an infected wound, maybe it was that Steve was bringing up Howard like an angel to Tony's demon, and maybe it was that it was a childhood idol spouting the vitriol.
Whatever the reason, Tony's jokes fizzled into sincere insults. Steve seemed to notice the change, and his own arguments were colder and harsher than any before. It ended with multiple curses, with Tony defiling the name of a long-dead father (and a long-gone era), and Steve storming out (for once) while Tony leaned heavily against the counter.
He poured himself a tall glass of scotch and downed half of it. He ached for the burn of cheaper liquor, and had almost made the decision to fetch some himself when his brooding was interrupted.
"Do you dislike your father?" Tony jolted in surprise, and the scotch in his hand nearly spilled in response. His mind caught up to the question, and he instantly replied,
"No, he was great. I just like messing with Cap." Loki's smile was small.
"Your lies are far more translucent when you have consumed alcohol." Tony furrowed his brows in annoyance. That's not true.
"I'm not lying."
"See?" Loki drawled. "Perfectly pellucid." He approached the bar, and ignored the way Tony stiffened at the lessening distance. "I see you have admitted the Avengers into your home."
"Yeah, it's front-page news," Tony replied irritably, eyes flickering upwards. Was Jarvis gone? If he shouted, he could probably get the others. What had he told Clint? Superheroes at his beck and call?
Although Cap would probably sit this one out. If he came, he'd just be cheering for Loki to knock Tony's head off.
If the demi-god hadn't already for calling them.
"What are you doing here?" Loki glanced up at him, and gave a mild shrug.
"I heard shouts of anger. Have you so soon fallen from your 'honeymoon phase'?"
"Cap and I never had that," Tony answered, resigning himself to pouring a second glass. "-and how'd you hear the 'shouts of anger'? Don't say you were just 'in the neighborhood', because that's such utter crap and after being fed Rogers' bullshit, I don't think I can stomach it." He handed the glass to Loki, who took it with a small nod of gratitude.
"I was interested in seeing how the Avengers were faring in this new environment." His smile grew. "And I must say, it amused me greatly to know there is already friction. Do you believe he'll stay?" Tony blinked at the question.
"Cap? Of course he will. Don't get your hopes up for me to drive him off. He's too good to let petty stuff like this faze him." The demi-god's eyes flashed.
"Too good? Is there possibly such a thing?" Tony rolled his eyes.
"You know what I mean." A pause for a sip. "But yeah, he does kinda layer it on. He comes from a more sincere time. He woke up to sarcasm and cynicism, and instead of changing, he decided he was just going to be sanctimonious to every Average Joe that just happens to be an asshole."
"The others don't seem to be affected." Tony frowned as he noticed where the conversation had gone. He had already been drinking before Steve had entered, and now he was just bad-mouthing his teammate to a guy that manipulated for his bread and butter. He was officially a ridiculous human being. Maybe he should finally heed Pepper's millions of complaints and dump the drinking.
"Yep, neat, huh?" He promptly put down the glass, and stalked to the couch. "How much longer are you gonna be here? I do have stuff to do." Loki seemed amused as he replicated the movement, sitting directly opposite Tony.
"My apologies for delaying you." But he didn't seem sorry enough to leave. Tony considered his options. He could call for help. The pros were obvious: he'd have help. The cons: it would infuriate Loki and most likely drive him to do something on impulse. Like maim or decapitate Tony.
Tony enjoyed using his brain, so he decided to put a pin in that plan and move on. He could try to leave. He doubted Loki would let him, though, and then it'd be painfully obvious who had the power in the situation. He could just talk. The cons: Loki would try to manipulate him, try to mess with his head. The pros: he'd finally be able to satiate that damn curiosity (and have a distraction).
And, besides, talking to Loki wasn't all that bad. Off-putting, definitely, a constant source of stress and fear, sure. But it was also interesting.
And he did like interesting.
Only a few seconds had passed since Loki's comment, so it wasn't completely out of the blue when Tony said:
"Somehow, I doubt your sincerity." Loki smiled.
"A mistake on your part, I assure you." Tony glanced out of the window. A messy sunset frowned at him past the skyline, and he distantly wondered what time it was.
"So will you be staying until you're bored again?" Loki nodded, and, with an amused smirk, added,
"Or until you say something of such worth that I must leave and process it." Tony gave him a slim grin.
"Okay, lemme rack my brain for something transcendental." He leaned forward, tapping his knee unconsciously with a nervous finger. "Let's start off with that chick you sicced on me." Loki had the gall to look innocent.
"I'm afraid you must explain." Tony rolled his eyes.
"Well, I'm not gonna, so strain that infamous brain. Why were you even trying to get her to sleep with me? Was it, like, to get me on the side of evil? Because, believe it or not, I can get laid on my own. I'm very charming." Loki's eyes were amused.
"I would never imply otherwise."
"And yet you kinda did." Tony replied with the same level of finality, leaning back and crossing his arms. "My ego is offended."
"You did seem to follow with great interest." Tony waved off the (completely true) observation.
"It wasn't anything personal. I just hadn't gone to a party for a while, and, due to some recent changes, haven't gotten some for a bit. I didn't need help with that, mind you, I was just taking my time wading back into the lady pool."
" 'Lady pool'." Loki repeated.
"Y'know, the pool full of women willing- and eager- to sleep with me."
"I suppose I had imagined your 'pool' would be more diverse." Tony raised his eyebrows in confusion.
"What, like animals? Just because you're into something doesn't me-" Loki silenced him with a tired wave. Tony only quieted because he was genuinely puzzled.
"Men, Stark. It is not unheard of for those from Asgard to enjoy the company of both genders." Maybe it was because of the conversation with Steve, or the fact that he was drunk, or maybe just that his arch-nemesis was actually asking whether he were gay after sending some chick to seduce him (maybe he thought it would work better with a guy?), but Tony thought of his father.
Dear old dad.
And he just brushed the question and the resulting guilt he felt like he brushed away lots of other things, and leered.
"Why, you interested, sweetheart?" Loki's unimpressed look suggested he understood sarcasm far better than his brother.
"Only in honesty, Stark, which you don't seem to have much of tonight."
"Says the God of Lies."
"Your deflections are poor when you're inebriated."
"Or maybe I'm just sick of talking. You remember I wasn't the one who initiated this little chat? Somehow I highly doubt you showed up to talk about my sex life, so how about you just say what you came to say?" Loki paused, considering.
"What would it take to convince you that your Avengers aren't making a great enough change as they should?" Tony scowled. This again?
"More than you could ever do. That it?" Loki didn't look amused anymore.
"Hardly. I should also like to know of your father."
"Irrelevant and none of your business. Next?"
"He was a bad man, was he not?" Tony's heart was pounding, his hands fists. He'd just dealt with the opposite of this, and now he was forced to defend the man. So much for a distraction. Christ, how was this his life? Was there a reset button? Could he just redo it?
"No, he really wasn't. He was a great man. You convinced? Good. Because you stay a minute longer and I'm screaming bloody murder, regardless of how much Barton will make fun of me later." Loki didn't move, and Tony's brows furrowed as he leaned forward. "My shriek is extremely girlish."
And how was that a threat?
Apparently, it was an effective one. Loki stood, cloak swirling behind him in an intimidating way that reminded Tony of shadows. He frowned down at the rug beneath his feet, shaking his head.
"It is rarely my intention to rile you so, and yet, it seems, I am unable to do anything else." Tony snorted.
"Please. You get off on pressing buttons. If I ever said I'd join you, you'd put a whoopie cushion on the throne and then blow me up." Loki's head snapped up.
"You believe I would betray you?" Tony let out a shaky laugh, somehow feeling as if he'd expressed something he hadn't meant to.
"It's what you do." And it's what people do to me. We'd be the perfect pair, really. Loki shook his head.
"If you joined me, Stark, you would receive what I have promised. Freedom and power."
"I have that now." They weren't negotiating, were they? Tony focused on his hands. He wouldn't be the bad guy. Never again.
"What you have now cannot be compared to what you would have." Loki was suddenly directly in front of him, hand outstretched as if it wanted to rest on Tony's shoulder. When Tony tensed, Loki seemed to reconsider, and his arm drifted back to his side. "And you need never fear harm at my hands were you to join me."
"Then I guess I'll keep fearing harm," Tony told him firmly, standing. "And since you've answered about as many questions as I have, I say we consider this conversation a bust and move on." Loki frowned.
"This is a foolish course of action, Stark. I meant to give you an opportunity before our next conflict." Tony's eyes flashed.
"Do we have a conflict coming up?" Loki tapped his head forward slightly. "I forgot to pen it into my calender. Mind refreshing my memory?"
"Be prepared, Stark. I would not destroy you with pleasure." It actually sounded sincere, which was just...well, odd.
"You could just not destroy me." The demi-god smiled. It was a chilling expression, at odds with the features that bore it in that it was horrifically honest.
"If the opportunity to spare you is given, Stark, I swear that I shall take it. But I fear you are far too stubborn to deny a fight when it is taken upon your realm. I will do my best to distract you."
"Uh-" Before he could even figure out what to say to something like that, Loki was gone.
And there's another 5,000+ word chapter. See? You asked for longer chapters, and I gave them to you. What do you want next?
Also, how did my fluffy Loki-has-a-crush-on-Tony-lol drabble-ish story turn into this thing?
